Simon POV

  The pairings were not revealed at once. The organizers as expected only revealed one pairing: the first match.

  Darius against Julius.

  Julius in the first match. They'd get to see what he was really capable of. Yep, the organizers knew what they were doing. Curiosity had been piqued. In fact people wondered why such an important participants' match was the first there was. Wouldn't it be better to delay his match to create more anticipation?

  Poor Darius, the man made it to the finals just to draw the monster who eliminated Caleb.

  The betting houses scrambled obviously, working with almost no reliable information.

  Julius was the heavy favorite obviously. What could the odds even be? They didn't know. How do you set odds on a ghost? Darius had a real fighting style they could analyze. What did Julius have? Just one fight against Caleb that nobody fully understands what even happened!

  They could only take guesses.

  Even Simon had no idea what to write at the moment.

  Not that he could make much of a profit this time. The collaboration with the tournament organizers and investors only lasted up until the third event. It was a relationship of give and take. The organizers wouldn't push hard with their own broadcast crystals, and in exchange the news agencies could get exclusive recording crystals to hype up the events and matches and especially the participants.

  After all, what could be more enticing for people than an exclusive recording?

  Now though, the taverns were packed before the match, everyone wanting to secure a good spot near the broadcast crystals. After all, the organizers wanted all eyes on the final event. The first two events weren't important to pull out the big guns like the crystals.

  It wouldn't be false to say speculation about Julius's abilities had reached a fever pitch. After all, he beat Caleb's repelling field. Which had been really effective until Julius. Regardless, this match will tell us everything we need to know about Julius Ravencroft.

  And he needed to capitalize on that. He had to figure out an article, or something more exclusive.

  ***

  Wilhelm POV

  Wilhelm had never seen an arena this large. He'd heard about it, of course. Gramps had mentioned the capital's tournament grounds once or twice between training sessions, usually in passing or sometimes while correcting Wilhelm's footwork for the hundredth time. But hearing about something and standing in it were two very different things.

  The VIP room was smaller than he'd expected, but it was pretty comfortable with cushioned seating and a perfect view of the arena floor below. Which meant the other finalists were close too.

  Gods, how had he ended up here?

  He was excited to be here, there were so many people he found strong and looked forward to fighting them! Though the fact he couldn't fight them all did make him a bit sad. His gaze found Garrett Brennan first. Hard not to. The Brennan heir watched the arena floor with an expression of mild boredom.

  Garrett wasn't doing anything particularly threatening at the moment but there was something about his presence that made Wilhelm's instincts feel weird. It was a wrongness of sorts, like standing too close to a cliff's edge and feeling the wind shift against you.

  Near the opposite wall sat Tessia, trained by the Sword Saint himself. She'd held back throughout most of the tournament, apparently. Ending fights with the minimum effort required. Then she stopped holding back. Twelve seconds, one fight had lasted. Twelve seconds against a peak Rank 4.

  And she still hadn't unsheathed the sword her teacher was once famous for.

  Wilhelm looked for the weapon but found nothing. He couldn't find anything like a blade at her hip. No sheath across her back either. Which was strange, because people kept talking about her sword like it was the most dangerous thing about her.

  Well, anyway.

  Jason Kormack sat closer to the center of the room. Now this person was his favorite of the bunch. Had he been not participating himself, he'd have rooted for Jason. Darius on the other hand appeared to be meditating. Was he conserving energy? The runner-up from Instance One had to be pretty strong, right? Then again he lost against Caleb.

  Who lost against Julius.

  Wilhelm's gaze found the man in question.

  It wouldn't be inaccurate to say Julius Ravencroft stood apart from everyone else.

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  The Duchess's nephew. The ghost with no public history. He had many nicknames and titles the public liked to use but even without all that flare, no one could deny the man who'd shocked the entire capital by defeating Caleb.

  He'd won by copying Caleb's repelling field. No one understood how though Wilhelm had an idea or two. Shaking his head, he shifted his focus, trying to land his eyes on the young man in the corner: Fredrick. He blinked. Eyes sliding over him like oil on water.

  Focus.

  He forced his perception to lock onto him, fighting a passive greasy mental suggestion that whispered, 'he is insignificant, look away.'

  Fredrick was a slippery eel of a human coated in a perceptual deflection so potent it was nauseating. Interesting. Grinning, Wilhelm locked his gaze on him just to prove he could, savoring the twitch of surprise on Fredrick's face that was quickly smothered into a cool expressionless facade. So very interesting.

  Suddenly, the mood in the room changed. Which was to say, everyone looked at the entrance where a man started materializing into the virtual space. Wilhelm was no exception, the man was just too interesting to him.

  If Fredrick was a slippery eel Theodore was opposite. His presence demanded attention. Gramps had mentioned him. He had forced Wilhelm to enroll just to cross paths with this man. He didn't know why.

  Now that he looked at him: he wasn't particularly tall.

  He wasn't physically imposing in the way a brute would be. But as he fully materialized, the ambient mana in the VIP room seemed to stir before calming under someone's intent.

  Curious.

  When Wilhelm tried something, Theodore paused, his head tilting slightly.

  Those eyes.

  Wilhelm wanted to cough to hide his embarrassment. He'd been caught. He had tried to [Analyze] him to strip apart his stance and mana flow like he had the others, but the moment he looked at his face, he felt the dynamic reverse.

  In a single moment, Wilhelm felt like everything he was had been laid bare before him. His eyes weren't hostile but they were intense. Finding a seat near the center of the room like this was just another day, Theodore sat down. But Wilhelm's heart was still pounding.

  His eyes were terrifying.

  He almost snorted in disdain at that thought.

  Gramps would sometimes watch him train, and those eyes reminded him of Gramps in some ways. Seeing everything, missing nothing. Was that why he felt terrified for a moment?

  He couldn't help but smile internally. These were the people at the top and he was in here with them.

  Oh, this is it, he realized. A grin spread across his face before he could stop it.

  ***

  Theodore POV

  The crowd below roared. It was a sound like a physical wave crashing against the glass partition.

  On the sands of the arena, two people stood separated by some distance between them. Darius looked relaxed, rolling his shoulders. He wore light leather armor, leaving his arms exposed. Thick muscles scarred from previous battles. Opposite him stood Julius Ravencroft.

  Theodore studied the man. His hands clasped behind his back, Julius was perfectly upright. He wore a high-collared coat that seemed too formal for combat, yet it fit the air of aristocracy he projected. The mana around him behaved odd. It didn't flow properly, strangely enough. For the lack of a better word, it was stagnated, pooling and twisting around him.

  When the match began, Darius exploded from his starting position, kicking up a cloud of dust that obscured his initial trajectory. He closed the distance in a heartbeat, and launched a straight punch.

  A close ranged fighter, was he?

  The fist carried enough momentum and mana to do a lot of damage, but it was stopped inches from Julius's face, the mana and force whipping past his face and billowing dust behind him.

  Darius's fist hung suspended in that distorted space fighting against an invisible resistance.

  The repelling field.

  Theodore narrowed his eyes. He had read the reports on Caleb's defeat, but seeing the ability in person offered a different perspective. This was a rejection of physics as he knew it but when magic was involved things tended to get a little fucky.

  Retracting his fist, Darius grinned, and went on hurling blow after blow at the man. Unfortunately for him, each strike met the same insurmountable barrier. The air cracked with the force of the impacts, shockwaves rippling outward, yet Julius watched the assault with detached interest.

  The others in the VIP room also looked on, interested in the two fighting. Theodore on the other hand stayed as far away from them as possible. He had no idea what the organizers were thinking putting them all in a single place like that, but then again they were probably betting on something coming out of them being together so they could capitalize on it to create more controversy around the tournament.

  Julius meanwhile finally did something. Something happened, and a loud explosion sounded, and from the point of impact where Darius's fist landed on the repelling field, Darius flew backward, tumbling across the sand before skidding to a halt. He laughed on the ground looking up at the sky, pushing himself up. Dust coated his face, but his eyes burned with a manic delight.

  "Is that it?" Darius shouted, his voice carrying clearly through the audio feed. "Push and pull? Come on, Ravencroft. You'll have to do better than that if you've copied my friend's skill in the first place. Do not mock it."

  Push and pull, huh? That gave Theodore some ideas.

  Julius said nothing. He merely adjusted his cuffs, his expression placid.

  "Alright, let me show you why you gotta do better than that," Darius snarled.

  Theodore leaned forward slightly. Darius was confident. Too confident for a man who had just been tossed like a ragdoll.

  Darius lifted his left arm to the side as if offering a handshake to the empty air. The mana around him spiked in a way that Theodore recognized instantly, causing him to lean forward with narrowed eyes.

  Darius clenched his left fist and his forearm exploded into pink mist, unable to contain the sudden and violent expansion of kinetic energy.

  Simultaneously, something happened to Julius as well, because his left arm exploded the same instant.

  Julius looked at where his arm used to be with genuine surprise.

  Theodore was surprised as well. What was that? Some kind of wound transfer? Wound linking? What?

  Steam rose from stump as the flesh knitted together at a visible rate before his arm was fully recovered and Darius shook it a bit, staring at Julius.

  "That wouldn't have worked on Caleb. As I thought, this is a weak imitation at best," Darius laughed.

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